Random Kny One Shots [Requests Closed] Orange Spider Lily pt.2 | {KokuZan}

Theme: Angst+Fluff

Note: thanks to da genius who thought of this part @freashbeans6479 (y’all should be thanking them for the fluff, I was going to make this angst and only angst)

Previously:

And it was all Kokushibo’s fault. He had failed his master, his boyfriend, the person dearest to him. He had failed and Muzan had died and it was all. His. Fault.

Kokushibo was enraged. With himself and with the world. So, deciding to keep his promise of taking of Muzan’s job, he would take down the demon slayer corps. 

He started by turning to the Uppermoons—which were only 5 now—and made them train until they couldn’t anymore. He did similar to the Lowermoons, but rather making them go on mission after mission. If any of them died, he found another demon that might be close to the strength of a 12 kizuki and made them a Lowermoon.

He went from demon after demon, sending out on missions that exhausted them to the bone. He went on his own missions as well, telling Nakime to try and track the demon slayers while he, went off on search of the Ubuyashiki’s. 

He would go out at night and not waste a single second searching, and during the day time he’d train indoors or in dark places. He trained himself until he fell in a heap of sweat and blood and sharp breaths. 

He needed to be like Yoriichi now. He needed to have his ability to fight. So he forced himself to look back, using Muzan’s memories to see how Yoriichi fought. He would have to build a resistence to red katana blades, he realized, as he watched Muzan nearly die at the hands of his brother. 

Nobody living was quite as powerful as Yoriichi had been who might threaten Kokushibo. He could easily kill the Hashira and Ubuyashiki’s if he tried. He would just have to find them first.

Kokushibo summoned the 12 kizuki as a whole, a look of fury written on his face. “Tonight.. we’ll take down the whole Demon Slayer corps,” he said, voice low. “Nakime, continue searching. Douma, eat every last one of the people in your cult. You need strength. Akaza, I do not care if you hate eating women, eat them or find millions of others to eat. Hantengu, let your clones out and train. Gyokko, stop focusing on your useless pottery and start being the Uppermoon you should be. Gyutaro, Daki, do whatever you want at the Entertainment District, but it must involve the two of you strengthening yourselves. Understood?” he asked, glaring at the demons in front of him. 

They all nodded obediently, knowing it was best not to contradict. Kokushibo had been a lot harsher than Muzan had—which was saying something. He seemed constantly furious and upset about something, but he never explained. All he’d told them was that Muzan had made him the leader of the demon’s because Muzan apparently had had enough of them and ditched them to be by himself—though none of them believed this, they could say nothing.

Kokushibo nodded as well. “Good. Now go. I will call all of you here in 2 hours.” Then he was gone, leaving the 12 kizuki in a state of urgency.

~~~ (Random switch to the demon slayer’s POV 💀)

There was a crow. And there was Kagaya.

He called the Hashira to him, along with Shinobu’s Tsugoku, Kanao, and a large group of selectively picked demon slayers—mostly people with higher ranks markings. 

“Tonight, the demons will strike,” he murmured to them, as they bowed down to him. “Be prepared. I do not wish for any of you to die, although that is a wish that is something I cannot do anything about.”

All of the people before Kagaya gave each other looks of confusion. When have the demons not striked? But then Kagaya elaborated, and their hearts dropped cold.

“The most dangerous demons,” he said quietly. “The 12 Kizuki. The demon progenitor. He will come.”

Every demon slayer present gasped. Muzan? He was coming? 

Kagaya nodded solemnly. “I can feel it.” 

It was silent in the garden and no one spoke for a long moment. 

Mitsuri’s voice cut out from the silence then, a quivering, high-pitched squeak. “Do you know where they will go for?”

“I have a hunch,” Kagaya said. 

“Where?” she asked. 

“Here.”

The Hashira’s eyes widened and the voices rose in a protest. 

“Then we have to protect you!” Sanemi said.

“No, that is not necessary. You must protect yourselves. Protect each other. I am not of an importance to the corps,” Kagaya said. “Please do not make it your priority to protect me.”

The Hashira protested, and Kagaya waited a moment before lifting his hand to silence them. 

“I cannot physically do anything. If I do die tonight, Kiriya will take over. Do not worry.” He paused. “I believe in all of you. I really do.”

The air was silent again and nobody seemed to breathe. And then- 

“Okay,” Gyomei said, his expression twisted into a sort of sorrowful acceptance. “And I promise, Oyakata-Sama, we will defeat Muzan.” 

Kagaya simply gave him a ghost of a smile before calling the meeting over. Amane helped him get up and the demon slayers were left there in silence.

And then they burst into conversation, talking of different ways they could go about this. The Hashira proposed that some of them should stay around here and some should find another place to go, in case the demons decided to attack elsewhere.

Most of them quickly agreed on this given that the Hashira were superior to the rest and it really was the only option at this point. So they split up, half of the Hashira stayed here along with half of the groupd of demon slayers, then the other half of the people spread out along the lands around the house and in areas even further.

An hour or two later, they got their answer as to where the demons would attack; right where Kagaya had expected.

A demon who seemed terribly strong, but wasn’t Muzan, made his way to the house. Every demon slayer there attacked then, leaving the demon distracted from the Ubuyashiki’s momentarily. 

But then one of the Hashira shouted, “Where is Muzan??” and the demon stopped, suddenly. 

He turned to that Hashira, still managing to block the other people’s attempts at wounding him, and he glared, all six of his eyes twitching in fury. 

“Muzan? Do you want to kill him? Do you want him dead?” Kokushibo asked, his voice menacing, shaking. 

The Hashira, Sanemi, tightened his grip on his katana and nodded. “I’ll fucking send him to hell the second I lay my eyes on him,” he said. His arms shook but he ignored this terrifying feeling and stood his ground. “Along with you.”

Kokushibo barked a laugh, a cold sound that vibrated through the trees. “Well it’s too late! He’s already dead.” 

Everyone froze, even Kokushibo. The wind had settled—which was contrasted to what was going on. 

“Dead? He’s already dead? Then.. how..” Sanemi asked, faltering. “Are you the demon’s leader now? Did you kill Kibutsuji?”

Kokushibo raged, then, throwing attack after attack at Sanemi and only Sanemi. “I DIDN’T ASK FOR THIS!!” he screamed, ducking as a katana tried slicing him from behind. “I DIDN’T FUCKING WANT HIM TO DIE.” What appeared to be tears leaked from his eyes, surpising Sanemi so that he stumbled for a second.

The attacks came one after the other, not stopping for a second. It because harder to tell what was going on as the demon slayers attempted to shield themselves from Kokushibo’s rage. 

But soon all of them fell to their deaths, leaving Kokushibo there standing, panting more from fury than exhaustion, alone. He looked about and realized he’d near about torn every living thing around him to pieces. He could sense some Hashira scattered around him and glanced one last time at the broken ruins of the Ubuyashiki’s house before making his way to the rest of the demon slayer corps. 

He made sure his demons were also out searching the Hashira, stretching out his mind to track them. 

And then time became a blur. (no, my lazy ass just wants to speed things up)

He vaguely was aware of what was happening—he fought, there was blood, deaths, his demons were dying too, all the Hashira gone, Ubuyashiki’s all dead and then—.. And then silence.

A silence so eerie and deathly that Kokushibo suddenly was aware that he stood admist dead bodies. He was aware he’d won. He’d brought on Muzan’s wish and killed the whole demon slayer corps. Slaughtered to the bone, villages, humans, lives. 

But Kokushibo wasn’t satisfied. 

No, he was not. 

He needed Muzan.

And Muzan was dead.

The only way to get to him was…..

death. 

Death would be his escape. 

Kokushibo turned, the horizen lightening from the sun. 

He stood there, on the mound of bodies, and waited, resisting every urge to shield himself, run away, and he let himself burn. 

The last he saw was the raging sun lifting towards the sky, bringing all the spirits of the people Kokushibo had killed with him. 

He was dead. 

But he wasn’t over.

Many generations later, when technology ruled the world. 

(the fuck did I phrase it like that for ;-; Basically, modern now!!)

Michikatsu awoke to the sound of his alarm ringing. He groaned, covering his head with his pillow but his brother, Yoriichi, pulled it off. 

“We have school today,” Yoriichi said. “You can’t sleep in again.”

Michikatsu rolled his eyes. “You go, I’m skipping!”

“I heard there’s going to be a new student arriving today,” Yoriichi continued. His brother stayed under the comfort of his blanket, not wanting to wake. 

“Middle of the school year?” Michikatsu asked. 

“Yes, he just moved to our city. I heard someone say his name, but I can’t quite recall. Something of Muzan?” (Jackson /j)

He sat up then, the name sounding familiar in his mind. “Muzan?”

“Yes. Supposedly he has very distinctive red eyes. He is said to be one you shouldn’t mess with. Why?” Yoriichi asked, turning to his elder brother.

“No reason,” Michikatsu murmured. “I’ll go to school today.” 

Yoriichi smiled. “Good. I’ll get breakfast and wait for you at the door.” 

Michikatsu nodded absently, his mind on Muzan. Where was that name from? Had he met him before? 

As he turned it over in his mind, he vaguely recalled the dream he’d had last night. He’d been having strange, violent dreams like this recently. He’d been killing people—and for some reason he had had six eyes. And he’d uttered a name.

Muzan.

Was that where he’d heard it? Probably a coincidence, it so. 

Michikatsu changed and rushed downstairs with his bag in his hand. He ignored the breakfast Yoriichi offered him and set off to school—which was conveniently only a couple blocks away from their house. 

When they got to the school, there was a crowd of people surrounding someone in the middle of the halls which prevented the two Tsugikuni’s from going through.

Michikatsu, who was well known mostly because of Yoriichi—who excelled at literally anything—shouted at them to shut the fuck up and let them through. 

The crowd parted and the Tsugikuni’s walked through, curious as to what they’d been so excited about. In the middle of all of the people stood a boy, looking about the same age as Michikatsu, with striking red eyes and raven-black hair. He was shorter, but he looked stern, menacing, and irritated.

Michikatsu’s eyes met Muzan’s and they gazed at each other, taking the other in as if trying to remember where they’d met. 

And then the realization, the relief, and shock. It came all at once and hit Michikatsu like a stone to his back. 

He stumbled forward, dropping his bag. Muzan moved forwards as well, and they collided in an embrace in the middle, tears running down Michikatsu’s usually cold eyes. Muzan buried his face in the taller one’s shoulder and mumbled, so only he could hear, “Kokushibo.. I’ve missed you.”

Michikatsu sobbed in happiness, taking in the sweet, familiar scent of his lover. “I’ve been waiting for you, I still love you,” he murmured back. 

Around them, everyone’s excitement of the new student had ceased into whispers of confusion in shock. Did Michikatsu know this person somehow? Why were they crying? 

Yoriichi watched the two with disdain he knew not where it came from. He sighed and left the hall, deciding he’d not ruin his brother’s moment. And though his eyes no longer saw Muzan, he had some burning hatred for the man which he was barely able to stop from boiling over. He wanted to crush the man’s head into his skull and burn him in the light of the sun. 

Why? he did not know. But Michikatsu seemed happy, so he’d leave him be. For now.

Michikatsu pulled back and, ignoring the way they were surrounded, kissed Muzan passionately like it would be the last time they ever were. 

Jeering and cat-calls followed this action and the people around them shouted in surprise and wonder but neither of the two bothered with that. 

Kokushibo smiled down at Muzan who was in his arms once more. “Looks like I’ll be skipping school after all today,” he said. 

Muzan’s mouth tilted to a smile. “Fuck education, let’s go, Kokushibo..”

{Word count: 2222}

YES I LOVED WRITING THE ENDING OF THIS (not the beginning so much) AND IT ENDED IN 2222 WORDSSSSS

HIIIIIII 

SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG TO WRITE BUT I’M TRYING TO FINISH WRITING THE HALLOWEEN ONESHOT SO……………………………….. (haven’t finished it yet)

bye bye loves, ly all!!